


Tortoise and Hare

by thirty2flavors



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, pretty extremely fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 20:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/pseuds/thirty2flavors
Summary: It’s stupid, because she knows what he’ll say—has already heard him say it, on more than one occasion—but the split second before he reacts is pure agony.





	Tortoise and Hare

**Author's Note:**

> Ending 2018 with some extreme fluff, I guess! 
> 
> This is a kind-of sequel to [Reading Comprehension](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941197), in that if you aren't me and don't live inside my elaborate web of headcanons this might not make quite as much sense, and Reading Comprehension would fill in a lot of those blanks. The short version is that I've always imagined Sasha would take much longer to say "I love you" than big dummy Rhys who calls girls "family" twelve hours after they tried to throw him out a moving vehicle.
> 
> Also heavily inspired by some adorable art by [@washingtubb](http://washingtubb.tumblr.com/post/181561285402/sketches-of-the-iconic-duo-in-bed-being-soft-with), embedded at the end.

The end of the race isn’t what she expects.

There’s no fanfare or dramatic gestures. She’s lying in bed, draped overtop Rhys with her chin on his sternum, listening to a story she suspects is one-part truth and two parts poetic license. Even with the embellishment, it’s not all that interesting, but Sasha is rapt anyway. She likes listening to him tell it: likes the faces he pulls, likes the sound of his voice, the vibration of it in his chest beneath her chin. Likes the way he gestures with one hand and draws circles on her shoulder with the other, so consistently she wonders if he even knows he’s doing it. 

And just like that, she stumbles over a finish line that Rhys crossed months ago.

His story fades to white noise over the rush of blood to her ears and the thump of her own heart. She lifts her head up to get a better look at him, props herself up on one elbow. Rhys doesn’t stop talking, doesn’t even register the change in her posture until Sasha reaches up to place a hand on his cheek.

“Hey,” she says, and Rhys stops mid-sentence to look at her. “I love you.”

It’s stupid, because she knows what he’ll say—has already heard him say it, on more than one occasion—but the split second before he reacts is pure agony. Rhys stares at her, eyebrows high on his forehead and mouth still ajar.

“Wh—what did you just say?”

Anchored down by expectation, the words don’t come as easy the second time. “You heard me.”

His shock gives way to glee. “Yeah, I did.” 

Rhys looks like he won the lottery, if winning the lottery were a personal accomplishment and not a stroke of dumb luck. It’s contagious, and Sasha grins back, until so much blood rushes to her cheeks that she feels like they’re on fire and she suddenly wants to run from the room and hide, or curl back into her shell. Instead she whines, lurches forward, and buries her face in the side of his neck.

To his credit, Rhys doesn’t laugh, even though Sasha is sure he badly wants to. It’s all a bit pathetic, how long it took her to get here and how hard it is even now. But he cups the back of her head and strokes the spot between her shoulder blades. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, and she can hear the million-watt grin on his face. “I love you too, you know.”

Her whole life, Sasha’s felt like a trapeze artist; only now does she feel like she has a safety net. With it, she can try new tricks without the threat of falling. 

“I know,” she mumbles, and then feels a pang of regret. She thinks of all the weeks Rhys spent, waiting to see if she’d ever catch up. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“Totally worth the the wait,” he tells her. He nudges her shoulder. “But remember: no take-backs.”

Sasha laughs. “Mmm...” She turns her head, settling into his side. “You were telling me about your first office party…?” 

“Right!” His chrome hand glints in the low light of their bedroom as he gestures. “Right, so, anyway, this guy was an asshole. I mean, pretty much everyone at Hyperion was at least 30% asshole—”

“You don’t say.”

“Right. But _this guy_ —”

He carries on like that, and Sasha lets herself relax again to the sound of his voice. She reaches across his chest to take his hand, and as their fingers twine together, she thinks maybe it’s not a finish line at all. Maybe it’s a starting line.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> That art & other great art is on [washingtubb's tumblr](http://washingtubb.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: [@oodlyenough](http://oodlyenough.tumblr.com/)


End file.
